


never really got a kiss without a countdown

by Buttercup_ghost



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Character Study, Crushes, Dangan Ronpa Zero Spoilers, F/F, F/M, If You Squint - Freeform, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, New Dangan Ronpa V3 Spoilers, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, shirogane centric, spoilers for the whole game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-01-23 09:51:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12504676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercup_ghost/pseuds/Buttercup_ghost
Summary: (Just once.)Or; shirogane falls apart at the seams, like always.





	never really got a kiss without a countdown

When they met the first time, shirogane doesn't think she's special. In fact, the only thing that seems to stand out is her bubbling pessimistic laced optimism, something that could be mistaken for naive, something that could be mistaken for hopeful. Maybe something that could be mistaken for hopeless.

("I don't really have much faith in humanity," she says with a smile.)

Shirogane knows it's neither, though, she sees it in her sparkling pink eyes—if she does not believe it, believe that everything will turn out alright, she will break. Kaede atsumatsu wants to save everyone, she supposes; or maybe, in the end, what she really wanted was for someone to save her, even if she doesn't admit it, in fear they will leave. It's her job to be the hero, and heros hearts are selfless, never crying out in greed.

The role of protagonist is a dreadfully lonely life, isn't it?

Shirogane giggles.

(It's fake, and she doesn't know why.)

 

  
The second time they met, kaede does not remember her. She barely spares her a glance, hand interlocked with saiharas, just as she planned.

Every great tragedy is a love story, no?

(Shirogane does not dwell on why it hurts.)

(Shirogane cannot afford to.)

 

The third time is the charm, as they say, and the third time is what sticks.

Shirogane ignores her, for a while, her patchwork heart taking time to sew up. She is lost in thought, perhaps, but maybe she's not thinking anything at all.

Kaedes fingers are soft on her cheek, as she wonders out loud if shirogane is a doll. She finds it hard not to laugh at that.

(Shirogane has always been a doll.)

 

  
Somehow, somehow, even though she knows she shouldn't, her hand finds kaedes. She is blubbering, and excited, and shirogane can almost forget the situation they're in, with her warm hand in hers.

She doesn't get why she's so happy, really, it's just a manicure, even if it was kaedes first time, but shirogane supposed that it was just how Kaede was. It's what made her endearing.

So she decides to do her best, a simple polish, on kaedes short, nimble finger nails. Her hand was long and elegant, slight callouses on her fingertips, and she finds its nice to hold. When she is finished, and kaedes smiles blind her, thanks and gratitude being showered upon her—she never expected that to happen, to be praised so earestly, no complaints, no demands for alterations, no complaints ( _cantyoudobetterthanthistrash_ _whydidieverbothertoaskyouyoureworthlessuselessuselessgirl)_ but she supposed theres a first time for everything—she finds herself blushing at her praise, when it's over.

(And then Amami comes in and all she can do is glare. How dare he take this away from her. How dare he. How dare he.)

(When the shot put ball misses, she doesn't hesitate to take her own to his skull, cracking it open.)

(She looks down at his body and feels nothing.)

 

She realizes, in the middle of the night, when she wakes from a dream about Kaede instead of junko, that she's gotten attached.

That won't do.

(She breaks all that she loves, all that she built, just like those who came before her.)

(Just like junko, a boy she loved and a crumbled sand castle laying at her feet.)

(As she plans out her execution, Shirogane can't help but wonder if junko was ever really happy.)

 

(She can almost swear she sees kaedes pink eyes reflected in the blood.) 

 

"I know it's a little late...." she says, when his body shows up, a tremble in her voice, "but seeing this makes it real..."

"This is the masterminds fault," kaede comforts her, without knowing the true meaning of her words, and she feels sick.

Kaede was going to die. Her fault. The execution plans run in her head.

("This is the masterminds fault," Kaede taunts.)

(She knows that already. She doesn't need to hear that.)

(She knows. She knows. She knows.)

 

 

She is so close, to her, now. She knows it will probably be the last time she sees her alive, with a smile. The last time she can touch her. She almost wants to confess, to tell her everything, every evil and wrong she's done, but she finds she cannot. Despite the redness of her skin, kaedes clothes are gentle, and soft as she wears them.

(She is so close, so so close, suspecting her like this, asking her to prove she could not dress up like others, to sneak around. She is so close to the right track, and she almost wants to reach out and shake her, scream at her, _I'm right her, condemn me, what kind of protagonist are you-)_

(She almost wants to grab her by the shoulders and kiss her, too.)

 

  
Kaede lies and lies and lies, until she falls apart, a thread being pulled, making the whole outfit give way.

And then she is hanged, jerking up and down like the puppet shirogane knows she's not, she never was, because in reality she was the marionette.

(She was never the puppet master.)

(Her creations start revolting.)

(She is just a doll.)

 

She speaks on script—

Speaks words prepared by her past self and strangers—

Strangers who view her nothing more than a tool, a character—

She tries not to think.

 

"How did it come to this," her voice echos, but it does not feel like her own.

"Why are you doing such terrible things," she asks, and she wonders who she's asking.

"I don't think I can take all this," she lies, except she finds that it's not a lie.

("It's too late to change everything," she thinks.)

("I'm sorry," she doesn't.)

(When she gets back to her room she laughs so much she falls, trembling.)

 

Shirogane wonders if she related to Kaede—

Related to that lonely protagonist she caught glimpses of through her facade.

(They were both alone, alone, alone.)

(Even surrounded by others, they were alone.)

(Sewing needles prick her fingers, droplets of blood welling from her carelessness. Worthless. Only the tv static keeps her company, and she submerges herself in stories.)

(It's easier that way, it's so much easier. Fictional characters cannot hurt her, cannot betray her. Ignore the outside world. Ignore the thoughts that invade. Ignore the fact that—)

(She doesn't mean anything to anyone.)

(She wants to mean something, and maybe that's why she joins danganronpa, her eyes on the shinning image of a goddess she could never be.)

 

Shirogane did not have a tragic backstory. She refused to believe it. A good villain does not need a tragic backstory, a good villain is feared, and fought against, because that's how it's supposed to go, right? Good and evil clashes, hero and villain.

(She wonders what junko past was like but-)

Shirogane does not have a tragic past, no tragic backstory to unlock with free time and gifts. She is not a tragic villain, she is not broken. She refuses to be.

And yet, everytime something gentle, and soft, comes into her life she flinches away, memories coming back, bruises and bite marks.

But still, shirogane refuses to be a tragedy. She is the villain. She is strong. She is just like junko.

(Was junko ever really strong, though–)

She did not care when people started calling her plain, she did not care when people stopped talking to her, she did not care when the teacher didn't call her name anymore, she did not care when she came to school to find lilies on her desk, as if she was already dead. Maybe she was.

She did not care when her father touched her in the night, bruises and bite marks, just wear and tear.

Shirogane was a doll, and dolls cannot feel pain.

(Shirogane was a _filthy liar—)_

Shirogane did not have a tragic backstory. She was not broken, because she was never put together in the first place.

Kaedes time spent with her was wasted, because, their wasn't even a her left.

 

  
When she is revealed as the mastermind, all she can do is laugh.

("Kaede," she wonders, "are you watching?")

("Do you see how horrible I am, now?" Her thoughts are a ghost of a breath away from her mouth.)

(She's not sure what answer she wants.)

 

 

Shirogane cannot find it in her to smile as she waves goodbye— 

(there is no sewing kits, or puppet strings, or fancy executions, here, just fire and rubble as everything falls apart around her.)

—her body goes splat on the floor without any sense of personality.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(She can't help but wonder if it would have been different if only she had kissed her, just once.)

(Just once.)


End file.
